


My Heart's First Beat

by enterthefantasy



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, Falling In Love, Loneliness, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Oral Sex, Repressed Memories, Romance, Sexual Content, Strangers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enterthefantasy/pseuds/enterthefantasy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn is an emotionally repressed, closeted teenage boy who is being forced to make choices assigned to him by everyone else. At his favourite spot in the hills, Zayn sees a handsome man, Liam, strolling along. By complete chance he bumps into him again from the means of an accident. These strangers soon form a bond, slowly edging towards a romance written in the stars. But Liam's jealous and zealous boyfriend, Niall, cannot stand to see him fall into the hands of someone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

The yellow grasses of the wild moor danced in the refreshing breeze. A bird tried to fight against it, but soon succumbed to the power of nature and flew with the wind to a new home. A boy watched this from an ancient, moss covered rock from down below, shielded from the elements. His sketchbook was quickly picked up as the captured bird swooped over him; he would remember exactly the image which he saw thanks to his perfect, artistic memory. 

The boy, whose chocolate eyes looked intently at the pencil stroking the paper, was called Zayn, and he was relaxing in his favourite spot. High above his hometown of Bradford loomed the Pennines; beckoning him with their tranquil isolation from the throes of a deceitful lifestyle. The solitude experienced here was precisely what Zayn craved daily, and snatching up his pencil and pad, he weaves through the cobbled ginnels of the industrial city, crosses over the dirty canal, treks through the short-lived forest and ascends the sharp gradient of a hill. 

Zayn’s morose sigh was doused by the wailing of the wind as he smudged his drawing. When he drew he liked to add a few cartoony details, e.g., displaying the wind as thin strokes or putting an exclamation mark near the bird to display it’s shock at nature’s strength. He looked down at his piece of art and scowled at it, tearing it off of his pad and scrunching it up. 

As sudden as the first dabbles of sunshine, Zayn had the desire to gaze at a certain picture tucked away into the back of his pad. He ascertained that no one was present and pulled it from the sheets. His heart raced and his throat shrank at the picture of the young man lay on a bed, stark naked with a throbbing erection. The man’s perfect abs sent a shiver down the observer’s spine; his oiled skin and provocative pose forced Zayn to let out an exhale of lust and plaintiveness, for never would he be able to revel in his true feelings. 

He tucked it back into the pad and rested his head against the abrasive surface of the rock, staring dejectedly at the moorland before him. The vast shadows of clouds ensnared portions of the hills, whilst other parts were bathed in the summer sun. No movement, save that of the swaying of the grass, came before Zayn. It was just the way he liked it. To be away from the prejudiced minds of Bradford was heavenly to him; he had a girlfriend who was desperate for sex constantly, which Zayn denied, using smart excuses, and he also had a domineering father who was urging him to carry on the family name. He just felt trapped in this life; he sometimes dreamed of getting up and running after the horizon.  
And as his eyes began to droop, movement did come before him. He was sent awake swiftly at the image of another young man about forty metres away taking a walk. Zayn had never seen anyone else here before and was honestly afraid that he’d be seen. What was there to worry about, though? What was he afraid of?

Luckily, Zayn’s grey jacket helped him blend in with the rock, so the passer by did not notice him. From where Zayn was, he could see that he had messy hair and a manly gait. His face was too far away for him to scan, but his attire was the main thing that stood out; he was wearing baggy jeans and a dark blue polo shirt. Zayn followed this man’s movements until he was obscured by a knoll. He did not pass again.

A few minutes past, and because of the recent event, Zayn felt slightly strange being in his favourite place. He decided that he should go home, but he’d take the long way. He got up and turned around to make his journey. He held his sketchpad upside down so the erotic picture didn’t accidentally fall out in front of people; Zayn did all in his power to conceal his sexuality. The walk would take him through the forest, but down a path that was scarcely traversed because of a false local legend associated with it. It descended down a very steep part of the hill, and it was that area that Zayn was the most cautious about; many people had fell and really injured themselves.  
He basked in the heat of the Sun as the forest came into view, and then took the left turning at the first fork in the path. The boughs of the trees made for the stroll to be completely ethereal, with the tweeting of the birds and the sweet smell of summer flowers. He didn’t pass a soul, thank God. 

Whilst he neared the sharp slope, he heard footsteps a few metres behind him, but dismissed them away, focusing all of his attention on his footsteps. He carefully placed his foot on a slanted stone and moved his other one onto the root of a tree, giving him stabilisation. He took another step onto another root and realised how steep the hill really was. He was instantly immersed in regret and longed to turn back. Just as the footsteps of the stranger behind him came to the top of the hill, Zayn’s foot caught in the arch of the root and before he knew it he was looking at the canopy and then looking at the floor as he tumbled down the hill, hitting his head on a rock in the process. He didn’t scream, instead he grunted as he fell firmly at the bottom, his head screeching and his eyes blurring.

“My God,” Zayn heard from the top of the hill. He tried to look at the figure speeding down the gradient, but his neck was in agony when he attempted. Zayn did marvel at how the person could move so dexterously. “Mate, are you hurt?” Enquired the stranger, a man.  
Zayn felt like an idiot laying there on the floor after just being seen falling disastrously. But he barely had time to think about that when a horrifying warmth trickled down his cheek from his onyx hair. “Um…” Zayn said, trying to get up but falling back on his backside.

The concerned stranger held his hands to his mouth when he saw the copious amount of blood on Zayn’s face. “You’ve got to get help. Come on, I’ll take you to my house, it’s just over there,” The stranger nodded to a detached house below the forest, just a few metres from the duo. Without permission he put his arm under Zayn’s and helped him up, keeping his arm there as they moved to the house.

“Thank you so much,” Zayn smiled at the man, looking at his face. He had a handsome countenance, with a bulbous nose and cute, narrow eyes. His lips were plump and red, and his hair was full or curls. Zayn then took a swift glance at the man’s clothes and saw that this was the man who he’d seen on the moors. He chuckled at the serendipity.  
“It’s absolutely fine, mate, really. I can see the cut now and it doesn’t look too severe,” He beamed at Zayn, who couldn’t help but blush.

As they walked to the man’s inviting house, Zayn was unaware that his sketchpad lay, forgotten, at the base of the hill, with the erotic picture peeking out of the pages…


	2. Two

By the time Zayn and the friendly stranger got to the latter’s house, the blood had ceased its oozing from Zayn’s head and his vision began to come about him. The first thing he noticed was the cosiness of the building; he had a feeling that he who lived here must be quite well endowed. The garden was nicely manicured and the window frames were a bright white; hanging baskets straddled either side of the varnished, wooden door. “Your house is very nice,” The injured said, with a gaping mouth. 

“Cheers. It’s my parents’, but they’re away on a holiday in Australia,” His face faltered slightly under the shadow of the structure before him, but he hastily returned it to his amiable expression. “But we need to get you sorted out; that fall looked quite bad. I’m Liam, by the way.”

Zayn grinned, “My name’s Zayn. It’s so lovely that you’re helping me out like this; most strangers wouldn’t.”

“I guess I just like to help people,” Liam reflected Zayn’s charming grin. 

The front door to the house opened up, and the first thing which hit Zayn was the angelic aroma wafting through the rooms. He didn’t speak up about it, instead surveying where he was: the living room. It was grand and beautifully furnished, with a vast television clamped to the wall, watching over the facing settees. “You can just take a seat there,” Liam nodded over to one of the leather sofas and rushed off. “I’m just going to get the first aid kit.”

Zayn nodded and moved over to the couch. When he sat down, he realised that he was staring all around the room, at the red coat of paint on the walls, and at the fancy artworks hanging from them. The unlit fireplace dominating the room was embellished with photographs of duos and trios, who Zayn could only figure were Liam’s family. He heard the sound of rummaging through a cupboard in the room adjacent to him and rapidly following the sound, Liam returned with a large, emerald box and a welcoming smile. “Right, let’s take a look at you. My dad’s a doctor, so I know what I’m doing, don’t worry,” He winked at Zayn, who blushed because of it.

“I trust you,” He held his head up so Liam could get a good look at the cut. He got out a cloth and dipped it into some hot water with Dettol mixed into it. Dabbing at the cut with care, Liam’s eyes fell to Zayn’s for a split second. “Right, it’s been cleansed. Now we need to put a plaster onto it,” He dug through the first aid kit and took out a square plaster, peeled off the plastic layer, and then stuck it carefully onto the cut. “Finished.”

“Thank you, that happened much faster than I expected.” Zayn bowed his head, smiling nervously. He didn’t know whether he should get up and leave or stay. “Um…I should get going now. It was so nice to meet you, and thank you for helping me.” He opened his arms reluctantly before pulling them back. To his surprise, Liam executed Zayn’s desired gesture without hesitation, “That’s all right, mate,” He said into his ear. “You take care now.”

“I will,” He chuckled. He didn’t understand why he felt so flustered at Liam’s touch or his hug, but he didn’t want the feeling to float away. “Hopefully we’ll meet each other again some time,” Zayn said as Liam walked him to the door.

“Hopefully,” He bounced his eyebrows at Zayn, who beamed. “Will you be okay walking home?”

“I’ll be fine,” He replied. Twilight began to settle in, and the light dustings of stars in the sky were to be Zayn’s faithful guide. “You’ve definitely been a saviour, and I’m just sorry you had to see me take a tumble,” He shook his head at his own clumsiness and humiliation.

“We all fall from time to time, don’t you get worked up over that. At least we met each other,” Liam’s eyes twinkled like the spirits over them, but missed Zayn’s expression as his mobile phone began to ring on the table inside. “Ooh, sorry, mate, I’ve got to take this. Take care, Zayn,” He winked and ran to answer it.

Zayn was still in an ethereal aura at Liam’s celebration of their meeting; he had a strong feeling that Liam was not your every day nice guy who said things to humour his companion. He sensed that Liam was telling the truth, which both boggled and bewitched his mind.

And though there was a fair chance that they wouldn’t meet again, Zayn praised the stars above him for their serendipitous planning.

Meanwhile, in the house, Liam watched Zayn walk down the street with a bounce in his step from the living room window, smiling at the sight of him. His phone still went unanswered, and bringing it to his ear while Zayn turned a corner, he did answer it. “Hello, Niall.”

“Hi, darling, how are you today? I’m back, by the way.” The caller confirmed cheerfully. 

“I’m very good, babe. And you? How was Ireland?” Liam closed the front door quietly and slumped on the settee, trying to keep Zayn from his mind as he spoke to his boyfriend.

“It was all right, I missed you though,” Niall chuckled.

“Aw, I missed you too.” He looked at the dirt engrained into his fingernails from clambering down the slope for Zayn. 

“I’m so on my way to your house right now,” His voice was lasciviously peppered. “It’s very convenient that your mum and dad are away, isn’t it?”

Liam allowed a smile to grace his face, though it was brought on by the promise of sexual release rather than the reunion of his boyfriend of two years, “Can’t wait. Will my little leprechaun give daddy a nice, Irish dance?” He bit his lower lip.

Liam could almost hear Niall’s grin, “Aye. My dancing skills have not worn off.”

The recipient unbuttoned his jeans, giving his growing erection some room, and rubbed his groin. “Good, good. Well I’m waiting.”

“I’m going to come in…now,” Niall said before the front door opened up. Liam turned around quickly and was greeted with the baby faced Niall, whose pale skin exemplified his seven day sojourn to Ireland. He slammed the door shut and ran over to the settee, jumping on Liam, and nestled his behind into his groin. “I’ve missed you so much,” He blessed Liam’s face with many light kisses, and then ousted the breath from his lips by striking them with a passionate, almost pained osculation.

When the kiss ended, amid catches for air, Liam uttered, with a hand down the back of Niall’s trousers, “About your little dance…”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fan fiction on this website, so I'm a little new to the ropes.


End file.
